


and you're not coming back

by dogebite



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Angst, Dead Marco Bott, Flashbacks, I cant believe dead marco bott is actually a tag on this website, M/M, One Shot, POV Jean Kirstein, hella old fic i just found on my tumblr, my poor heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-04
Updated: 2016-09-04
Packaged: 2018-08-12 21:30:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7949845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dogebite/pseuds/dogebite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes in the void of my subconsciousness, where sentences stop short and the world is an abyss of silence, you pop into my mind. / Marco's gone, he isn't coming back and Jean thinks about it a lot,</p>
            </blockquote>





	and you're not coming back

**Author's Note:**

> this is legit a two year old fanfic that needs to get a fresh breath of air from my stuffy tumblr

 

Sometimes in the void of my subconsciousness, where sentences stop short and the world is an abyss of silence, you pop into my mind.

There is not much about you I can actually remember now. Sometimes I think the face I see is the face I thought you once had. It was one that was not much older than mine. Then again that would have been hard.

We were all so young. So young and stupid and reckless. Youth is meant to be like that. Youth are meant to learn from their mistakes and figure out that when you get older you either get fucked over or learn how to sort your shit out. Our generation, sadly, don’t get to make that choice to grow up. You and I certainly did not have a choice. So many of us don’t even get to know what it is like to grow up and be an adult. We don’t get to have a normal job, where customers annoy us and are rude to us because the importance of the customer is above everything else. We don’t get to buy a house and fill it with furniture that suits our style. We don’t get to marry and have children or have that large wedding ceremony; where there is awkward tension from each side of the church hall because my Aunt dislikes your cousin’s sense of fashion.

And love. Real love. So many from our generation never get to experience that. It is a horrible realization and I can feel the lumps rise on my forearms. I can feel the hair prickle and I gulp at the realization that large, anthro monsters have turned us into a dying breed.

I am lucky to say I am one of the people of our generation that still survives. I am not sure for how long, but I am still alive. I have raw air in my lungs and the taste of iron on my tongue. I am lucky to say I have been in love. Been in love with you and your stupid freckles and stupid smile and brown eyes that gave me so much hope for humanity when all I wanted to do was say fuck you to everything.

Your freckles, I loved your god dam freckles. I always heard people talk about them. Girls giggled about them and others referred to you as “That guy with the freckles.” It’s Marco. I should have said that. You had a name and it was important, to me at least.

I had a name too; I still have one I guess - sounds that come out of a human’s mouth to shape the sound _Jean_. And you said my name better than anyone else ever did in that stupid little camp we were all crammed into like a can of sardines. On the nights where I look up at the ceiling, just like tonight, I can remember back to that year we trained - to fight and kill titans…

Now I think it was all a waste of time. Because in the end I believe we are all going to die and there is nothing to stop that.

But in that year we trained, I opened up to you the way a flower blooms when the morning comes, or when a man places his poker cards down on the table face up and shows he has four of a kind. You thought I was a royal flush and you made me blush a lot sometimes when we were alone. I hated it. You said so much shit. You flattered me. And of course I would never blush in front of the others, but when we were alone in the flames of a lantern I couldn’t stop the heat rising to my cheeks and making me turn the colour of a royal flush. You said things like:

“I admire you.”

“You’re smarter than people think you are.”

“You are brave.”

“You are funny.”

“I wish I could be tougher like you.”

“I like your hair.”

“I like your lips.”

“I like you…”

… Marco, you said so much.

The ceiling began to groan because there is someone moving above me. It reminds me how late the time is and how much sleep I need before I am asked to get up and start my routine all over again. But I don’t want to break away from this stream of thought, this stream of memories that come when I hear your name in the void of my mind and all I want is to stay here just a little bit longer.

…I think a lot about the times I spent counting your dam freckles in the dim lights, with you straddled above me and your hands holding you up against my broad chest. You were so shy that you always kept your eyes closed. Even while you sat on top of me and our clothes were half gone, your eyes would be shut. So god damn innocent, despite all the shit we’ve been dealt. So god damn beautiful. Our foreheads would touch or your lips would graze mine and I was left in the silence to count the freckles on your warm cheeks. I’d always get to a number between twenty and thirty three before I lost my concentration or you moved - and would be forced to start all over again.

On one occasion I remember getting to forty. And I felt so dam proud of myself - so dam proud that I had not even realized that you had been watching me scan your face for what seemed like hours. But then you said in the midst of the silence “I love you” and brought me back to your brown eyes.

Your dark hair was damp and you needed a haircut because it was starting to get out of control. And you had such a serious look on your face when you said it. It wasn’t the words that got stuck in my throat; it was the air that had been sucked out of my entire body with the words you had said.

‘I love you’ I wanted to tell you that. I wanted to tell you that I loved you back. God fucking dammit, I wish I had. But I kissed you instead, pulled you close and we slept like that above the sheets. I thought it would be enough for the time being - that through my actions you would understand that I felt the same way…

I wish I had known sooner…

The one time I didn’t speak what I was thinking was the time I had needed to say it most. Because after that night you were gone.

I cried, I don’t know why because it wasn’t going to bring you back, but I did. I prayed to God - if there ever was one, and asked them to bring you back to me. And, of course, it never happened.

Now I blame myself for being too blind, too blind and stupid to not realize that even in the midst of love - horrible shit can happen and I am ultimately left with the reminder that as long as Titans are alive no one can have a normal life. Even if we try - we will all end up like Marco. Half eaten and the bringer of broken hearts to our families and the ones who blush at the sight of us.

“Why are you still awake…?”

Connie acted like gravity, causing me to come crashing down from the steam of subconsciousness. It felt like the way you fall in a dream - half asleep - that causes you to flinch and come back to life with a racing heart and a fear of death. I looked at him in the bed across from mine; he had rolled onto his side and now stared at me with a half-awake expression.

That should have been you in the bed beside mine. Like it had been before, when we pushed the beds together to make one large bed and slept together under the same blankets. I don’t hate Connie for taking your place… I just wish it was you, Marco.

“No reason.”

Connie simply groaned at my response and rolled once again to put his back to me and find that comfortable spot once more.

I tried to think about you again, and dive deep into my subconscious. But every time I tried to count the dumb freckles on your face I had to resurface for the raw air of reality and listen to the creaking of footsteps above my ceiling.

Now my thoughts are just short. Simple. Sentences. With no meaning. No feelings. Just words. One after the other. Because a world without Marco, a life without dumb freckles and flattery. Is not a real life. Life without Marco…

_Sucks._

**Author's Note:**

> i hated having my profile bare of any fanfics so i dug this baby up cause i'm still lowkey proud of it sobs. it's probs gonna be my only attack on titan fanfic but please look forward to other trash from me~ (overwatch, dc, other video games, uh idk more stuff) 
> 
> stalk me on tumblr at: baboyaaa


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